AUTHOR'S POV

The room smelled faintly of coffee that had gone cold hours ago.Not the comforting kind the bitter, stale scent that lingered in a room where someone had forgotten time existed.

YN’s apartment was dim except for the bluish glow of her tablet and the weak yellow lamp sitting crookedly on the corner of her desk.

Shadows gathered in the corners of the room like silent spectators, stretching across the floor and climbing up the walls where unfinished sketches were taped in careless rows.

Some were beautiful. Some were disturbing. Some were both.

Half-empty energy drink cans crowded the edge of her desk, their metallic surfaces catching flashes of light every time the screen shifted.

Her tablet kept buzzing.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Notifications stacked endlessly across the top of the screen as the comment section under her newest manhwa chapter descended into chaos.

“YOU CAN’T JUST END IT THERE.”

“AUTHOR YOU ARE MAKING ME INSANE.”

“CHAPTER TWO AND YOU ALREADY DROPPED THAT STAIRCASE SCENE???”

“THE CLIFFHANGER IS CRIMINAL.”

“ I WANT THE NEXT PART ASAP!”

YN leaned back in her chair, pushing her glasses up her nose with one tired finger before letting out a long sigh.

Her hair was tied into a messy knot that had given up holding itself together hours ago. Loose strands clung to her neck and cheeks while faint smudges of graphite still stained the side of her hand.

“Relax,” she muttered lazily to no one.“It’s literally chapter two.”

Her voice disappeared into the quiet apartment.

The place was small but comfortable in the chaotic way only artists seemed capable of living in. Sketchbooks lay scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. Some were open, showing rough drafts of expressions, anatomy studies, and darker ideas that probably shouldn’t have existed outside her head.

The window across the room stood half open, letting in the faint sounds of the city far below. A distant car horn. The low hum of traffic. The occasional whisper of wind pushing against the curtains.

But inside the apartment, everything felt still.

Except for the screen.

Her readers were losing their minds.YN scrolled through the comment section slowly.

She liked reading them.

The chaos.....The excitement.

The dramatic reactions to scenes she had drawn alone at two in the morning while eating instant noodles.

Another comment appeared.

“THE STALKER IS CRAZY.”

Another.

“WHY IS HE SO HOT.”

“HE IS SUCH A DADDY!!!!”

“He is psychopath ” YN snorted quietly.“Y’all need therapy.”But her lips still twitched.

Her story was working.

The manhwa followed a female lead who kept encountering the same masked stranger at midnight...someone who appeared out of nowhere, watched her like a predator studying its prey, and left just as mysteriously.

The newest chapter had pushed things further.

The infamous staircase scene.

After female lead left the party and was going back to her apartment when she encountered that stalker again.

Her readers clearly hadn’t recovered from it.

_________

The rest of the apartment was dark.Only her workspace was alive with light.

Sketchbooks lay scattered across the floor in careless stacks. Some were open to rough anatomy studies, others filled with panels and scribbled dialogue ideas.

The walls behind her desk were dotted with pinned references...lighting studies, pose sheets, perspective drafts.The kind of chaotic mess that made perfect sense to an artist.

On her tablet screen, the almost-finished panel of her manhwa stared back at her.

The infamous staircase scene.

The panel was drenched in shadow and dim stairway light.

The masked man stood with his back to the viewer, broad shoulders tense beneath skin that glistened faintly under the weak yellow bulb above the landing. Dark ink crawled across his back in intricate tattoos....lines twisting over muscle and spine like something alive, disappearing beneath the edge of his waistband.

Every movement made the designs stretch and shift, the sheen of sweat catching the light just enough to emphasize the power in his posture.

The ghost mask still covered his face, pale and expressionless against the darkness of the stairwell.

It made him look less human and more like a figure pulled straight out of a nightmare.

In front of him, the heroine clung to the railing while facing him....breath uneven, her elegant party dress slipping lower around her waist after the struggle of the moment.

The delicate fabric hung loose now, barely clinging to her frame while his grip kept her steady against him.The dim stairway light carved dramatic shadows across the narrow space—the metal railing, the concrete steps, the closeness between them.

Nothing about the scene felt gentle.
It was raw tension.

Danger.

The kind of moment that made readers hold their breath because they knew the panel after this one would change everything.
And of course...That was exactly where the chapter ended.

YN sighed quietly and rubbed her temple.
“Why is this angle so annoying…”

Her stylus hovered over the screen again.The final detail was driving her insane.

The heroine’s legs were supposed to be hooked over the stalker’s shoulders....an intense pose that looked dramatic in her head but refused to cooperate on the screen.

Every time she thought she got it right…
Something looked off.

The proportions.
The balance.
The angle of the hips.

YN groaned under her breath and erased the lines again.“Come on…”

“Nope.”

Erase.

She leaned back slightly, staring at the panel like it had personally offended her.
Drawing intense scenes always sounded easier in theory.

Actually positioning the characters in ways that looked natural was a completely different nightmare.

Still…She wasn’t giving up tonight.

She pushed her glasses up again and leaned forward with renewed determination.Her hair had escaped its loose tie hours ago and now hung messily around her shoulders while faint smudges of graphite stained her fingers.

The clock on the wall read 1:12 AM.

Perfect.....She had all night.

“I’m finishing this before morning,” she muttered to herself.Her stylus returned to the screen.This time she adjusted the posture slightly...tilting the heroine’s hip, shifting the stalker’s stance one step higher on the staircase.

The pose suddenly clicked.

YN’s eyebrows lifted.“Oh.”

She traced the new lines carefully, refining the shapes, fixing the balance, adjusting the lighting.Much better.

The final strokes came quickly now.

Shadows.Clothing folds.The dramatic lighting cutting across the staircase.

The last line was finish when—

Bzzz!!!

Her phone buzzed suddenly beside her.
YN glanced at it lazily.Probably another fan message.She had a habit of replying to readers sometimes—answering theories, joking about cliffhangers, teasing upcoming chapters.

The notification showed an Instagram message.From an unfamiliar account.She picked up the phone and unlocked it.The message was simple.

fan_account_143:
Author please tell me the stalker appears again next chapter.

YN smiled faintly.Of course that’s what people wanted to know.She typed back.

YN:If I answer that my comment section will riot.

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

fan_account_143:
They’re already rioting.

YN laughed quietly under her breath.
Fair enough....then, another message appeared.

fan_account_143:
The staircase scene is really good.

YN glanced back toward her laptop where the almost finished panel still sat open.The dim staircase.The masked stalker standing one step below the heroine.

She typed back casually.

YN:Glad you liked it.

fan_account_143:It feels very real.

YN raised an eyebrow slightly.Real?Before she could respond, the next message appeared.

fan_account_143:Like you actually sat there to draw it.

She chuckled softly.“Lucky guess.”

YN:Maybe I did.

YN’s thumbs hovered over the screen for a moment after typing.

For a few seconds nothing happened.

Then the typing bubble appeared again.

Typing.Stopping.Starting again.

A new message popped up.

fan_account_143:
You should lock your doors tonight, author.

YN frowned slightly at the screen.Her first instinct was to laugh.

Readers loved playing along with the whole “stalker” theme of her manhwa. Half of them joked about wanting the masked guy to show up in real life anyway.

She leaned back in her chair, one leg swinging lazily beneath the desk as she typed back.

YN:Why?

A second passed....then she added another message.

YN:Are you going to appear or something?

She smirked faintly to herself.The reply came quickly.

fan_account_143:
Of course not.

YN snorted quietly.

“Yeah,” she muttered under her breath, tossing her phone lightly onto the desk. “Thought so.”

Just another reader getting a little too into the story.Her attention drifted back to the tablet screen where the staircase panel still glowed faintly.

The shadows in the drawing looked deeper now that the room was darker, the masked figure standing behind the female lead almost blending into the black space between the steps.

Her phone buzzed again.The vibration was sharp against the wooden desk.YN reached over absentmindedly and unlocked the screen.

Another message had appeared.

For a second her brain didn’t process the words.Then it did.And the faint smirk on her face slowly disappeared.

“What if I’m hiding under your bed? ”

★★★